Wed Me - RoyEd
by Batsutousai
Summary: It was just another dinner date with Roy, nothing particularly special. Except for the ring box burning a hole in Ed's pocket.
**Title:** _Wed Me ~ RoyEd_
 **Fandom:** _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood_ /manga  
 **Author:** Batsutousai  
 **Rating:** Teen  
 **Pairings:** Edward Elric/Roy Mustang  
 **Warnings:** Established relationship, Ed's potty mouth, Roy's a massive sap, tooth-rotting fluff  
 **Summary:** It was just another dinner date with Roy, nothing particularly special. Except for the ring box burning a hole in Ed's pocket.

 **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Arakawa Hiromu and various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

 **A/N:** From a list of (drabble) prompts on tumblr, tsuyuhime requested **either Call Me or Wed Me (can't decide) for RoyEd, with no angst/tragedy**.  
How about a little bit of both? :D

Posting for 520/RoyEd Day, because that's half the reason I went asking for prompts.

This isn't even _pretending_ to be a drabble. I'm sure no one's actually sorry about that.

-0-

Ed was still trying to decide on what shirt to wear when someone knocked on the door of his and Al's flat.

Well, not _someone_. He knew exactly who he was, because Roy was always disgustingly on time when it came to picking him up for a dinner date. It had started as a mostly joking way to keep Ed from forgetting, or chickening out, but Ed was fairly certain the bastard was still doing it because it had become a part of their dates.

Ed shook his head, because thinking about his boyfriend's punctuality wasn't helping with picking a shirt.

The knock came again, oddly unanswered by Al, who usually got the door and joked with Roy about–

Oh. Shit. Al was out with his university friends.

"Edward?" Roy called through the door.

"One minute!" Ed shouted back, reaching out and pulling down the first shirt his fingers touched. Bright, garish red; he liked it, but he'd been told by pretty much everyone else that his tastes were terrible. Usually, Al was the one to pick out his outfit for his dates, but his night out with his friends had been something of a surprise, so he hadn't had time to step in and 'save Ed from himself', or whatever bullshit Winry had spouted the first time she suggested Al be the one to dress him for any future dates.

Fuck it. It wasn't like Roy wasn't already plenty familiar with Ed's idea of fashion.

He shrugged the shirt on, shoved the stupid little box holding what he'd spent the last week hunting down and worrying over into one of his trouser pockets, then shoved out of his room as he quickly buttoned the shirt up.

"Do I need to come in there?" Roy asked just before Ed reached the door.

Ed yanked it open and glowered at him. "Shut the fuck up and let me get my shoes. Impatient bastard." So saying, he started to turn away, toward the pile of shoes next to the door that Al insisted on, in an attempt to keep Ed from tracking nearly as much mud through the house as he would have done otherwise.

Roy, of course, stepped forward and caught him around the waist with one hand, while the other caught Ed's chin and tilted his head up and around to meet his dark eyes, lit with the dim light from down the hall that Al had taken to leaving on, because they were both too lazy to fix the broken bulb for the light in the entryway. "Good evening, Edward," he said in that voice that always–

Yup. As expected, Ed's face felt like someone had just blasted hot air at him, and he really wished he knew a way to fix this fucking dry-mouth-syndrome. Avoiding Roy like the plague, probably. "H-hi, Roy," he managed, hated how stupidly young he sounded.

Dammit. Damn Roy and his smooth fucking _everything_. This shit was why _Ed_ was going to be the one to propose. Maybe shock the bastard so _he_ was the embarrassed one, for once.

Roy, the idiot, of course, just smiled, then leant in and feathered a kiss against Ed's lips. "I'm always impatient to spend time with you," he whispered against Ed's mouth.

Impossibly, Ed felt his face get even _hotter_. Automail in the Great Desert, level. Fucker. "I hate you so much," he snarled, before grabbing the front of Roy's shirt before he could pull away – playfully or seriously; Ed was never sure which it was until after he was out of range for kissing – and pushed up on his toes to push his mouth against Roy's, licking at the crease of his lips, because previous experience said–

Roy chuckled and the fingers against the underside of Ed's chin slipped up and back along Ed's cheek, gently nudging his head just slightly to the side, while Roy made up the rest of the difference himself, opening his mouth so Ed could taste the echo of his stupid breath mints. (Ed hated those breath mints. Any time he smelt or tasted anything even a _little_ close, he ended up getting distracted thinking about this fucking bastard. It was _not_ conductive to being productive. At all. Stupid bastard, trying to infect Ed with _his_ bad daydreaming habits.)

Roy pulled away first, reminding him, "We're going to be late."

"Shouldn't have fucking distracted me, then," Ed retorted, the line automatic after two years of dating, not to mention everything else that had happened before then.

"You started it," Roy informed him, probably also on automatic, because he seemed to be of the mistaken impression that _Ed_ was the more distracting, in purely aesthetic terms.

The moron.

Ed pulled himself free a little rougher than probably necessary, but Roy wasn't wrong about them maybe being late for the reservation the bastard always insisted on, as if they couldn't just go out to whatever sounded good that day and wait in whatever line to be seated there was, like normal people.

(Okay, so they weren't _actually_ normal people, and it would probably look a little odd for one of the highest ranked members of the Amestris military to go out to eat _without_ making a reservation first. Fuck. This shit was why Ed always let Roy handle all the dinner planning bullshit.)

Shoes on, Ed shooed Roy out ahead of him, then locked up, before turning to follow the bastard down to the car, only to find Roy staring at him. Cue face overheating. Again. " _What_?" he snarled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Roy blinked and offered him a smile that looked...strange, somehow. "It's been a while since I've seen you in red."

Ed tightened his arms over his chest. "Al told me not to wear it any more. I dunno. Some bullshit about it being too fucking bright."

Roy let out that cough that meant he was trying very hard to keep from laughing, and then he reached out and pressed a hand against Ed's chest, just over his heart, above his crossed arms. "I think it suits you perfectly, my sun."

And there went Ed's face again. Fucking _bastard_. He did this shit on purpose!

Ed uncrossed his arms to point a finger in the bastard's face. "You don't get to fucking judge, moron! You think being naked suits me!"

...he did _not_ just say that out loud.

Roy's laugh said he absolutely _had_ , and Ed shoved him, then turned and stalked to the building stairs and down to the car.

The driver was plenty familiar with Ed, and he didn't say anything about the storm cloud brewing over Ed's head, or the fact that his face almost certainly matched the colour of his shirt, just held open the door for him and greeted him with a polite, "Mr Elric."

"Lieutenant," Ed muttered in return as he ducked into the car and attempted to find a position that was comfortable, despite the stupid box in his pocket.

Roy joined him not long after Ed'd settled, catching his hand before Ed realised he needed to pull it out of rang, and bringing it up to his lips to kiss his knuckles. "I admit," he murmured, while Ed's face made a bid for molten lava, "that I'm a bit biased, in that I believe you look good, no matter what you happen to be wearing."

'Or not wearing,' he didn't add, but which Ed assumed was implied; he should probably hit the bastard.

"That said," Roy continued, looking up at Ed, his eyes lit by streetlights and way too fucking pretty for a decorated general, "red does a particularly excellent job of bringing out your hair and eyes, which you already know I find irresistible."

"Gonna punch you," Ed warned, though he wouldn't, actually. Probably.

Roy smiled and kissed his knuckles again, then let Ed's hand go. "Alphonse is out tonight?" he asked, a peace offering.

Ed huffed a bit and crossed his arms again, uncertain what else to do with them. "Yeah," he agreed, trying to modulate his tone to be a little less irritable; thankfully, Al was always a good topic for that purpose, which Roy knew. "They made a breakthrough on one of their projects, him and his team, so they went out to celebrate." He snorted, reminded of when Al had hunted him down to let him know he'd be out late. "I told him not to get too drunk, or I'd invite you over for dinner tomorrow."

(Because Al may have been happy that Ed had found someone that he loved – when he wasn't more inclined to murder the bastard – but he'd also once (foolishly) said that long-term exposure to Roy being a stupidly charming fuck and Ed's reactions – _not_ fucking blushing schoolgirl, that description was _bullshit_ – was equitable to twice as much time spent watching one of the alchemist hopefuls he tutored painstakingly tracing a basic array. Which really just gave Ed an excellent threat to abuse the fuck out of.)

Roy chuckled at that, plenty aware of Al's opinion of having him over for a visit. "And what'll he do if _you_ get too drunk?" he asked, because he _also_ knew that Al wasn't the sort to take a threat to his sanity laying down.

Ed coughed and refused to make eye contact. "You'll never find out," he promised, because no amount of liquid courage was worth being woken up before he needed to get up by Al banging a pot less than a foot from his face, and then yanking the curtains open while he dodged Ed's attempt to murder him.

Roy laughed outright at that. "I could just ask Alphonse," he pointed out.

Ed uncrossed his arms so he could point a threatening finger at the bastard. "Fuck you. Keep your nosy nosing about away from Al. Bastard."

Roy gave a slow nod, attempting to look sage. (Ed bit his tongue to keep from laughing.) "That bad," he said.

Ed snorted and dropped his threatening finger to the seat between them. "I dunno. You can get pissed off your arse and I can spend the night and show you?"

Roy coughed, his eyes almost seeming to sparkle as they reflected the light from the passing streetlamps. "Ah. Perhaps I'll avoid that tonight." And then his hand came down to rest next to Ed's, the tips of their fingers brushing.

Ed huffed out an, "Idiot," and very pointedly moved his hand forward, slotting his fingers between Roy's, and trying not to stare at his bare ring finger, which would be wearing a ring by the end of the night. Somehow.

Roy smiled at him, way too fucking soft for him to be pulling out in anything like public, the _moron_ , and Ed tried to ignore the telling warmth of his cheeks as the bastard asked, "Which of their experiments?"

Experiments? Oh, Al.

Talk of Al's most recent victories and trials with his university classes and the lab work he and his friends had got permission to perform got them through the rest of the car ride, getting seated, ordering, and the food arriving. And, once there was food in front of him – especially _good_ food, and fuck forbid Roy ever take him somewhere subpar – Ed sort of got tunnel vision. Which, well, if it bothered Roy, he never said, and he _was_ still taking Ed out to really fucking delicious places, so.

As his food dwindled, Ed started thinking about his goal for the evening again, which, well, how the fuck did people propose, anyway? Winry had spewed some bullshit about flowers and chocolate and grand declarations of love – Al had asked for him, then handed over the phone before Ed'd realised he was better off running the other way – and Al had been pretty certain that being polite and smiling a lot was the way to go – Ed called bullshit. Gracia had told him all about how Hughes had proposed by plotting with the wait staff and hiding the ring in her desert – impossible, since Roy was the one who made the reservations and dealt with the people and shit – but she'd also given him the wholly useless advice to 'just be yourself'.

Edward Elric didn't _do_ proposals. Fuck, Edward Elric had spent almost six months dodging Roy's intentions, agreed to one date, then immediately fled to Creta for a month afterward, because he hadn't been able to deal with his emotions. He _still_ couldn't quite handle the way Roy always made him fucking _blush_ , or the way he just wanted to fucking sit with the bastard for hours and read or debate alchemy or fall asleep on each other. Kissing and sex, yeah, that was all fine, he was good with the physical attraction, but _everything else_.

Love fucking _sucked_ some days.

"What are you thinking about?" Roy asked out of nowhere.

Ed started and shot him a glare in hopes of covering. "Why? Nothing. I'm not thinking about shi–anything. I'm just... The food. It's really good, okay? That's it."

Roy watched him for a moment, like he was trying to decide whether or not to believe him, before smiling and agreeing, "It is good food."

"Right?" Ed returned, grateful for the distraction from his thoughts. "You're gonna have a hard time topping this one."

Roy's smile widened. "Maybe I'll have you over next time."

"Ha!" Ed pointed his fork at him. "Sure you will. You gonna steal away some famous chef, too? Or are we going for round two of food poisoning?"

Roy sighed and drooped a bit, trying to look pathetic. "Are you ever going to let that go?"

Ed pretended to think about that for a moment, tapping his chin, before announcing, "Nope!" and flashing the bastard a wide grin.

Roy snorted and very obviously returned his attention to his food, as if that would keep Ed from knowing he was amused by the familiar ribbing.

Which left Ed with his previous line of thought, and he shot the remainder of his meal a scowl as he poked at it with his fork.

Roy sighed. "Are you going to tell me, or should I start guessing?"

Because Roy couldn't actually let things alone. Ever.

Ed scrambled for a better excuse, came up blank, and decided, what the fuck, might as well get it over with. So he shoved his hand into his pocket and said, "I got you a thing," as he tried to pull it out, only to scowl as it got stuck.

Roy blinked. "I...see?"

"No, no, you don't see, because the thing you're supposed to see is in my pocket. You're an idiot," Ed retorted, right before he managed to shift into just the right position in his chair to slip the box loose. He took a deep breath, then held out the box, his face warming already. "This is it! It's– It's not– You don't have to say _yes_ , but I was really hoping you– I mean, actually, I'll probably punch– No, that's wrong. How do people fucking do this?!"

Roy coughed that cough that said he was trying not to laugh as he folded one hand around both the box and Ed's own hand. "I think," he said, and Ed became aware that the restaurant had gone fucking _silent_ , "I know what you're trying to ask, and my answer is yes, assuming you'll say the same?" And then he held out a box that was _identical_ to the one Ed was still holding.

"...I hate you so much right now," Ed informed him, because _fucking Roy Mustang_.

"Is that a yes?" Roy asked.

" _Yes_ , that's a yes, you _moron_. Why do I always gotta spell this shi–stuff out for you?"

Roy smiled and traded their boxes, then opened the one from Ed before he could really comprehend what had just happened. The ring Ed had settled on was relatively simple, with three tiny diamonds set into a black band, something he could easily wear under his gloves, so he could quickly switch between ignition gloves and normal gloves without getting caught on anything, or chance losing the ring.

Ed snapped open his own box and blinked to find a gold band with a moderately sized ruby in the middle, and a smaller golden-yellow gem – citrine quartz, probably – to either side. The colours were almost an exact match to his hair and eyes, and the shirt he'd picked out. Which, fuck him, _this_ was why Roy'd been staring at his shirt and commenting on the colour and shit.

He took the ring out of the box and slipped it on, was utterly unsurprised to find it fit perfectly, because he _was_ dating Roy.

No, not _dating_. They were _engaged_.

Almost as if the whole fucking restaurant had heard that thought, people started fucking applauding, and the wait staff came forward to offer their congratulations and offer them a complimentary bottle of champagne and some chocolate cake, both of which Roy agreed to, so their plates were whisked away and the staff dispersed.

"This is beautiful, Edward," Roy told him, once it seemed everyone had settled in to ignoring them again.

"Yeah, well, it suited you," Ed muttered, chancing a glance across the table at his...fiancé. Roy was holding up his water glass with his left hand, the miniature diamonds of his ring sparkling in the restaurant's lights, not unlike how lights would sometimes reflect in Roy's eyes, distracting the attention of anyone stupid enough to chance a glance.

He'd been right about the ring suiting the bastard: The design was plain enough to, in most situations, mislead a casual observation into assuming it wasn't much, was maybe a little in need of a good cleaning. But, in the right light, it _shone_.

He glanced down at his new ring and wondered, a bit, what Roy had been thinking when he'd picked those colours. The gold was obviously aimed at Ed's Xerxesian colouring – fuck knew the bastard commented on it often enough, and he had a completely inexplicable bad habit of comparing Ed to the sun, because he was a _moron_ – but the red?

"Your cake and champagne, sirs," their waiter offered as he returned with the promised items and set them out. "And congratulations, again."

"Thank you," Roy returned in that smoothly charming way he had that always won people to his side.

Ed took a cautious sip of his champagne, shrugged – not his favourite alcoholic beverage, but it wasn't as bad as that crap one of Al's friends had brought over for their New Year's celebration – and set his glass back down before asking, "Why red?"

Roy looked vaguely startled for a moment, before putting on a fond smile. "You're going to laugh," he cautioned.

Ed shot him a flat look. "Since when has that stopped you from saying something stupid?" he asked, before shoving a forkful of chocolate cake into his mouth.

Which, holy fuck, he had to hold up a hand and mumble a, "Wait," because he had to take a moment to _savour_ some of the most excellent cake he'd ever had. _Damn_ , Roy picked good places.

Roy chuckled and, when Ed peeked out at him, asked, "Edward Elric-approved?"

"Fu– Yes. Epic cake," Ed agreed, before waving his fork at the bastard. "Tell me your stupid reason so I can go back to enjoying this."

Roy's smile took on that slightly embarrassed edge that Ed only very rarely got to see on him, and this was only the second time in public; this should be _good_. "Hearts are red," he said.

"Hearts are r–" Ed deadpanned, before stopping himself as he got it and his face heated up.

Hearts are red; love is red; I love you.

Ed ducked his head and informed his cake, "I really fu–reaking hate him."

"Did you tell Alphonse your plan for tonight?" Roy asked, amusement in his voice.

Ed shot him a suspicious look. "He knew I had the ring, and that we were going out. Probably. I mean, it's _Al_."

Roy coughed a laugh in one hand and nodded. "So he wouldn't be surprised if you came home with me tonight."

"You gonna get me more cake?" Ed demanded, mostly because he knew he could.

"Yes," Roy agreed without missing a beat.

"Yeah, fine, I suppose we can get that required private celebration out of the way tonight, sure," he decided in as flippant a manner as he could.

Roy's laughter said he wasn't fooled for a minute.

.


End file.
